The night was dark and bitterly cold. In the clear sky the stars were bright in their constellations. I drove through the shabby town and up into the woods, mile after mile of unrelieved blackness (the woods are part of a ducal estate, and so undeveloped by houses).
Eventually I arrived at the estate village. I parked the car on a little slope, wondering whether it would be secure (there was ice underfoot). About three miles away the ducal castle was floodlit with white light. Because the castle is on top of a hill and surrounded by woodland it had the appearance of floating in the air. Looking at it, I thought it resembled a giant gothic-revival UFO hovvering in the sky. I turned my back and went into The Chequers gastro-pub, last visited with Robert Leiper three weeks before (then it had been mid-afternoon).
I felt having dinner here tonight would be a sort of postscript to the Robert Leiper visit.
Above: this is an old picture I took of the floodlit castle, but imagine it smaller (further away) and whiter.
Above: The Chequers pub.
Through the front door, you go into a big square bar - a perfect Old English pub. Roaring log fire which almost filled one wall. Above the fire a stuffed boar’s head, and various old agricultural implements (impossible to say what they were for). On another wall a huge silver shield, recording the triumphs of the village cricket team. All around the walls were comfortable antique settle sofas, with cushions so flat they must have been sat on by thousands of people. In the middle of the room were two long tables – the pub has a common board where you sit down at the first seat available and take pot luck about who your fellow diners are (I suppose it’s one way of meeting new people).
The actual bar was new looking, blonde wood, lots of champagne bottles in evidence (not normal in a pub, but par for the course in a place with a Michelin mention).
Everything about the pub was reassuring and comfortable except the absence of any people, indicating the prices were too expensive for ordinary pub-goers to afford (even when people started to arrive, they were upper middle class people who had one drink at the bar and then had dinner).
Above: boar's head above the fireplace.
I ordered a Scotch and soda (no ice) and went to sit on one of the settles near the fire. The heat was almost overpowering. I sat there with my drink until Gary Spencer arrived.
Instead of joining the common board we were shown into a small dining room off to the side – the walls were rough bricks (hand-made bricks from the 18th century) with a cheerful fire in a brick fireplace. Rabbit and ham terrine, sirloin steak with haricot beans, steamed orange pudding with orange sauce (this meal was one of the nicest I have ever had). One glass of house wine during the meal and two cups of coffee afterwards.
We discussed Robert Leiper at some length.
We discussed the crime rate: “I’ve told my children that if they are attacked they should be prepared to defend themselves and not expect any help from the police. There are lots of criminals who have no qualms about using force to take what they want. If someone attacks you, you need to fight them off yourself rather than hope the police are going to turn up.”
We discussed property in Dubai: “We’re going there this Easter and staying at the Royal Mirage. I’m buying four apartments in that new block I told you about. You need to get in quick if you want one…” (as if I would want to buy a flat in one of the most volatile and dangerous parts of the world).
Gary Spencer outlined his theory about the reshaping of populations: “Countries like Dubai are competing for the world’s wealthy people. Mobility is becoming so accepted that millions and millions of ordinary people will have two or three homes around the world and move between them every three months not paying any taxes. In ten or twenty years no country will be able to levy high rates of tax as people will just move away from them – it’s a big consideration for countries with social welfare programmes funded by taxation.”
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